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It's coming up on a holiday weekend here, so you know what that means.
Plumbing problems.
As they go, this one was minor. We'd noticed a leak in the cellar below The Throne- the only one in the house used by the three of us (eight of us, if you count its use as a water dish/aromatherapy unit for the animals). Having the plumbing skills of a piece of polyvinyl pipe, I left this one to Dr. Eleanor to diagnose, and the solution seemed simple enough.
When we replaced our original ratty bathroom floor- cheap linoleum over crumbly tile, which had been left for us by the previous owners- the tile/marble contractor laid down a thicker surface than what had been there before. Did he put in longer toilet bolts to accommodate the difference? Of course not. So gradually, over the last 5 years or so, we'd wiggled and jiggled the thing off its pins enough to have unsealed the porcelain from the pipe.
It's just water, don't eww me.
So the job was manageable enough, other than for damn dogs coming and going on Inspection Detail, so just before we went to re-set the throne on its rightful place over the hole in the ground, I shut the bathroom door behind me.
Bad move.
----
It's been a bit humid up here this week. Not as bad as the flood stages to the east and south, but bad enough. For reasons seeming awfully stupid in hindsight, we hadn't put the AC on. It's fine in here, but in there, with lots of humidity from water being drained and spilled, and with two fairly large full-size humans working up a sweat, we passed the dewpoint and then some long before we finished the job.
And came to find out that the lock on the bathroom door had failed. With both of us now stuck inside. With no tools and a fairly steep climb-then-drop to play a Beatles record in reverse and Go Out Through the Bathroom Window.
----
Did I mention I'm slightly claustrophobic?
----
Bless the child, who kept a level head and fed us a variety of semi-tools to try to fix the new problem. We got the pins out of the door hinges, but those were all seized up from the humidity, too. We tried credit-carding the door from both ends, to no avail. Finally, using a paint scraper as a screwdriver and having Emily manipulate the locking mechanism from the outside with a wirecutter once we finally got the door handle off, she manipulated the gizmo and we were freed.
It has got to be the most hilarious thing to have happened in ages. I'd picked up a couple of bottles of wine from a church friend of mine who opened his own liquor store right around the time I started my own solo practice. It's next to the hardware store where Eleanor has now gone to return some of the unneeded parts from the terlet soi-gery. I gave her the loose bills from my wallet and told her, "any of this you need to, buy a new lock for that door. If any of it's left, go to Neil's and buy more wine."
Plumbing problems.
As they go, this one was minor. We'd noticed a leak in the cellar below The Throne- the only one in the house used by the three of us (eight of us, if you count its use as a water dish/aromatherapy unit for the animals). Having the plumbing skills of a piece of polyvinyl pipe, I left this one to Dr. Eleanor to diagnose, and the solution seemed simple enough.
When we replaced our original ratty bathroom floor- cheap linoleum over crumbly tile, which had been left for us by the previous owners- the tile/marble contractor laid down a thicker surface than what had been there before. Did he put in longer toilet bolts to accommodate the difference? Of course not. So gradually, over the last 5 years or so, we'd wiggled and jiggled the thing off its pins enough to have unsealed the porcelain from the pipe.
It's just water, don't eww me.
So the job was manageable enough, other than for damn dogs coming and going on Inspection Detail, so just before we went to re-set the throne on its rightful place over the hole in the ground, I shut the bathroom door behind me.
Bad move.
----
It's been a bit humid up here this week. Not as bad as the flood stages to the east and south, but bad enough. For reasons seeming awfully stupid in hindsight, we hadn't put the AC on. It's fine in here, but in there, with lots of humidity from water being drained and spilled, and with two fairly large full-size humans working up a sweat, we passed the dewpoint and then some long before we finished the job.
And came to find out that the lock on the bathroom door had failed. With both of us now stuck inside. With no tools and a fairly steep climb-then-drop to play a Beatles record in reverse and Go Out Through the Bathroom Window.
----
Did I mention I'm slightly claustrophobic?
----
Bless the child, who kept a level head and fed us a variety of semi-tools to try to fix the new problem. We got the pins out of the door hinges, but those were all seized up from the humidity, too. We tried credit-carding the door from both ends, to no avail. Finally, using a paint scraper as a screwdriver and having Emily manipulate the locking mechanism from the outside with a wirecutter once we finally got the door handle off, she manipulated the gizmo and we were freed.
It has got to be the most hilarious thing to have happened in ages. I'd picked up a couple of bottles of wine from a church friend of mine who opened his own liquor store right around the time I started my own solo practice. It's next to the hardware store where Eleanor has now gone to return some of the unneeded parts from the terlet soi-gery. I gave her the loose bills from my wallet and told her, "any of this you need to, buy a new lock for that door. If any of it's left, go to Neil's and buy more wine."
